Buddha Delivers A Speech

Buddha is nervous. He is about to give a speech. Buddha hates giving speeches.

He was up all night writing it. The speech was his attempt to tell of his experiences reaching enlightenment under the tree of figs. Buddha hoped that by sharing his experiences through public speaking, he might help others to improve their lives.

Shortly before the speech was to begin, Buddha vomited in a public bathroom. Buddha hoped that this would ensure he would not vomit during the speech.

Buddha put on a clean suit and tie. He looked like a dapper gentleman.

His speech began and Buddha proved himself an eloquent writer, though a somewhat inelegant, inconstant speaker. Nonetheless, the audience listened patiently and were polite, and Buddha managed to finish his speech without any major anxiety attack or particularly embarrassing flub. When the speech had concluded, Buddha told the audience that he would now take questions.

A tall man in the front row wearing thick, black glasses raised his hand.

"Yes, you in the front," said Buddha, pointing to the man, "what would you like to know?"

"You never mentioned the part where you were crucified."

Buddha stood in a daze of confusion for a moment.

"I never was crucified."

The crowd gasped. A woman sitting in the middle, near the aisle, stood up.

"What about Pontius Pilate? Did you ever forgive him?"

"For give him for what? I wasn't crucified. I never knew Pontius Pilate.  You've got me confused. You're thinking of Jesus Christ."

The crowd began talking amongst themselves. The frustration was palpable. Buddha felt like a fool.

The crowd began to boo. The man who spoke first shouted loudly "Get off the stage!"

Just when it appeared the that the audience may become violent, everyone present suddenly transformed into balloons of every color and floated so far up into the sky that Buddha could no longer see them.

Buddha reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cellular phone. He dialed his manager's number. There was an answer.

"Hello?"

"Dang it, Chuck, it happened again!"

Piggyback Ride Through Time and Space

I am eight years old. I am at a picnic. It is our family reunion. I am wearing a green sweatshirt.

The other children and I play hide and seek, and hopscotch, and tag. It is great fun.

Uncle Bart  comes over to me. He has a big, fluffy moustache and is wearing overalls.

"Hey, sport," he asks me, "how about a piggyback ride?"

"Yeah!" I scream, and he lifts me up upon his shoulders. I take his baseball cap and wear it.

He runs forward as I hold on tight.

Suddenly everything becomes a blur; the ground, sky, and sunlight stretch out into infinity.

Moments later I am forty-five years old. I am in front of my workplace.

It is a multinational advertising firm. It is a skyscraper in New York City.

I am wearing my usual suit and tie. I am sitting on the sidewalk.

Underneath me is Uncle Bart's shattered skeleton. 

Sarah Davis Experiences a Difficult Bowel Movement

Sarah Davis was an attractive girl. Twenty-two years old, she had a constant stream of boyfriends; she was never without one at any given time. Men could not resist her long, luxurious dark brown hair, her toned, powerful arms and legs, her wide, innocent eyes nor her large, perfect white smile. Sarah had worked as a model and as an actress and never had any problem finding work in these fields. Eventually, Sarah had decided to challenge herself and so was working her way through law school. Her sheer physical beauty and regal composure were enough to  cause even the most powerful men to bend to her will.

Sarah had her pick of men. One night while on vacation, after an evening out, she and her new boyfriend, Bradley Michaels, retired to their penthouse suite. He had the prestige that was a prerequisite for time with her; he was a young lawyer at the top of his game. His large, muscular arms were the very definition of security to her.  She could hardly bear to be apart from him, such was his magnetism. His passion for her was not rare, but her passion for him was a sensation she was not used to feeling. Excitement and lust coursed through her entire body as they lay sprawled out on the bed. She wanted him. They began to undress each other, slowly and sensually.

Suddenly, however, Sarah felt a cramp. She felt a strong urge to defecate.

"Brad, I'm sorry. Wait here for just a sec, okay?"

"Sure," he replied with a smile, "I'm not going anywhere."

Sarah rushed into the bathroom with an urgency befitting neither her usual, regal composure nor her current sexual energy. Sitting down, she was overcome with difficulty as she attempted to cause a bowel movement. Pain began to surge through her stomach as she tried to pressurize her bowels and force out the reluctant, presumably rock-hard waste.

Suppressing the urge to scream, Sarah rocked herself back and forth on the toilet, hoping to bring an end to this terrible agony. Minutes passed. Bradley knocked on the door.

"Are you okay, Sarah?" he asked with somewhat feigned concern and an unsuppressed impatience.

"Fine..." she gasped. "Just a...minute."

Nearly a half an hour had gone by. The television, which Sarah had heard being switched on some time ago, suddenly went silent.

"I'm going to go down to the bar and get a drink." Bradley said, and then he left, slamming the door on his way out, before she could attempt any sort of coherent reply. Her mind had lost focus and conscious thought; she had become nothing more than an animal in pain.

Suddenly, just as suddenly as the pain had started, it was over. Sarah heard a loud PLOP in the water. Standing up, she looked down into the bowel. There, floating, was a massive, round, solid turd.

For a moment, Sarah felt as if she might laugh. Something about the absurdity of it all struck her and she wanted to fall back into hysterics, to lose all sense of self and of having any part in the grand scheme of things.

Then, the turd began to crack, and she saw a tiny hand reaching out of it. Slowly there emerged a tiny figure, not more than an inch tall, of a naked adult man. She immediately recognized it as her last boyfriend, Justin. The tiny figure stood on top of the turd and began screaming her name as loudly as he could. Due to his size, the sound was not very loud, but it was shrill.

Then, out of another crack, another small man emerged. This, she saw with horror, was the boyfriend she'd dated before Justin, Doug. He too began screaming her name.

This process repeated as she saw every boyfriend she'd ever dated emerge; meanwhile, the turd that acted as their giant fecal egg slowly crumbled and collapsed into the toilet water.

Soon, the commode was filled with bits of floating waste and countless men shouting her name with thin, shrill voices that made her feel as if she might go deaf. She held her hands over her ears but to no avail; she could not escape the sounds of the voices. Then, furthering her terror and confusion, many of the tiny figures in the center of the bowl joined together, hugging each other as they floated on the filthy water, and as they hugged they began to fuse into a large, gelatinous infant. It appeared partially like a human child, but the eyes were larger and less solid, and the teeth looked like fangs that had melted. The entire creature seemed on the verge of melting, lacking enough cohesion to keep solid.

"SARAH!" it boomed, "WHY SARAH, WHY?! WHY, IN THE NAME OF GOD?!"

Suddenly Sarah remembered something her ninth grade chemistry teacher, Mr. Campbell, had told her: "Flush first, don't you ever ask questions."

Sarah, trembling, pushed the lever and the sickening water began to swirl, taking the hideous, malformed creature and the remaining scores of little men with it down the drain.

Moments later, Sarah, wearing nothing but a filthy robe and her undergarments, collapsed into Bradley's arms in the hotel bar.

"I'm so, so sorry..." she sobbed, "I'm so sorry, please forgive me, please..."

The first question that suddenly assaulted Bradley's mind was why he was more aroused than he had been at any other point in the evening. The second question was why he was suddenly reminded of his grandmother. 

Mrs. O'Hare

When I was 7

I used to visit Mrs. O'Hare

she was old and lived in a little brown house

down the street

she had poofy white hair

and wore big thick black glasses

when it was hot in the summer

she'd give me big purple popsicles

we talked about what it was like to be a kid

and the differences between then and now

she told me about how her grandma

used to sew her dresses

I told her about which videogames

were my favorites

she told me she used to play hide and seek

I told her I loved that game

she said summer was her favorite season

I said it was mine too

she said her favorite candy was lollipops

I told her mine were chocolate

she asked if I had any girlfriends

and laughed when I got mad and said no

she said she used to have boyfriends

and asked if I wanted to see them

she took me to the basement

and opened up the big boxes

after that I stopped visiting Mrs. O'Hare

except on the really hot days

when no one else had any purple popsicles

forging ahead

a wealthy businessman neglects his son

and enjoys going hunting for quails

he spends time with his son
only once

he takes his son hunting for quails

the businessman grows old and dies

the businessman's son grows bitter

the businessman reincarnates as a quail

the businessman's son unknowingly shoots his father

as an outlet for stress
and as a way to relive one happy memory

the businessman reincarnates as a quail again

this repeats indefinitely

a robotic condom

a robotic condom

Gerald lived with his parents and had very little sexual experience. One day he saw an internet advertisement for a new product from Japan: a robotic condom. In this device Gerald saw the potential for a new era of solo carnal pleasures, a welcome change from the funk he'd found himself in of late. Carefully, he ordered it while his parents went out for cocktails and arranged for it to be delivered to the address of an abandoned gas station.

One week later it arrived. Under cover of darkness and disguised as a box of school supplies, Gerald brought the Japanese robotic condom home and unwrapped it in his room. As soon as he opened the box, he was struck at once with the sadness in the eyes of the robotic condom. Gerald felt as if he could see into the very soul of the creature, and realized suddenly the oneness of all things.

Overwhelmed with regret, compassion, and bittersweet joy, Gerald released the robotic condom into the wild. Deep within his heart, Gerald hoped that the robotic condom would not be corrupted by the folly of men.

Within 48 hours, Gerald forgot that any of this had happened. He remembered it only once, nine years later, as he stared through the window of a deli.

for FDL

A Message in Regards to Jeremy Kellerman

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Hello, Jeremy Kellerman fans.

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lance Erikson. I am the Chief Representative of The Jeremy Kellerman Advice Hour Archive. As you know, neither this blog nor Jeremy Kellerman's Youtube channel have been updated in quite some time. I am sad to inform you that Jeremy Kellerman fell ill just over three months ago. Symptoms began during his viewing of the television program "Witches of Beverly Hills," as recounted in his own blog post of February 25th, 2011, and became progressively worse as the weeks passed. During a fundraising event for the Mid-Michigan Track Association in mid-March, Jeremy fainted and was hospitalized. He spent much of the time since in a coma.

I am pleased to announce, though, that Mr. Kellerman finally woke up in mid-June. I personally oversaw his condition and can say, happily, that he is now predicted to make a full recovery. However, due to his weakened state, the upkeep of his blog and Youtube account have been forbidden by doctor's orders. Though updates to both may be sparse, I, along with his nephew Scott Kellerman, have been authorized to keep the blog and Youtube channel going, if only sporadically and as schedule permits.

As Jeremy has been recuperating, he made a friend in the hospital. Also recovering from a coma, this new friend and Jeremy discovered much in common. This friend, a wonderfully optimistic and positive young man named Rupert Pinstripe, was released from the hospital a few days ago and has generously agreed to honor Jeremy's request and write a post just for this blog. Mr. Pinstripe is a writer for the local paper and is more than comfortable sharing his views via the traditional op-ed piece format. In fact, the things posted here may appear later in our local paper; quite a reversal from the usual practice! Stay tuned and perhaps Mr. Pinstripe will honour us with further writings.

Please continue to feel free to contact Jeremy and the Kellerman Archive with any questions, concerns or etc. Those of us on staff will continue to maintain things on the home front while Jeremy recovers, and hopefully he will rejoin us soon.

Now, as Jeremy always says,

Think well, live well, be well,

Lance Erikson, Esq.

Manager, Chief Representative and Public Relations Officer

of the

Jeremy Kellerman Advice Hour Archive